


Love Song Of A Madman

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Pre-Slash, Psychotropic Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel keeps a diary while at Northern Indiana State Hospital and when Dean reads it, he finally steps up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Song Of A Madman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [DC Dystopia](http://dc-dystopia.livejournal.com)'s Reverse Bang.
> 
> I'd like to thank **dazedrose** for the sheer volume of work, effort and enthusiasm she put into this reverse bang, I loved the original art and concept from the moment I read it and I think we both have a massive soft spot for post-7x17 Castiel. Working with her was an absolute pleasure! I'd also like to thank my beta **verucasalt123** who was a massive support, especially when I was pulling my hair out and thinking I was the insane one! This fic wouldn't be half what it is without her!

CASTIEL

  


_And I would give all this and heaven too_  
I would give it all if only for a moment  
That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see  
‘Cause I’ve been scrawling it forever but it never makes sense to me at all 

_No, words are a language  
It doesn’t deserve such treatment  
And all of my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling_

 

  


The demon has given me this book. She insists she’s a nurse now and she’s trying to _help_. I don’t trust her. She says all new patients get them and they write down their feelings and it’s meant to _help_. She keeps using that word. _Help_. It sounds unnatural coming out of her mouth.

She says I have to behave like a _real_ patient. Otherwise her boss will get suspicious. For a second I see Lucifer standing behind her, stroking her hair and laughing at me. Then I remember he isn’t _real_. He’s just Sam’s manifestation of his ~~insanity~~ trauma. I have no reason to fear him, I was not in the cage with him nor do I believe he is here with me. He disappears, thwarted by reason and logic. ~~I wonder if Sam ever thought of trying that.~~

She says if I don’t write in this, and by proxy make it look like she’s doing her job, she won’t let Dean visit. I believe her. As a demon, she lacks a moral compass and apparently as a nurse she can tell them _it would upset my progress to have visitors_. I ask her what progress I’ve made and she said I’ve stopped calling her Jezebel. I call her it for the sake of it and she rolls her eyes. ~~I wonder if she was as defensive before she went to Hell.~~

She says she can still read words that are crossed out. I tell her this isn’t for her eyes. She’s angry now.

  


She looked at me funny when I apologised. She told me Dean called. She wouldn’t say what he was doing or when he was coming. I don’t think she likes being in his power. Why is she in his power? I think I understand her less than I do the humans. She’s like an icicle made out of fire. An oxymoron.

I tell her this and she tells me to shut up. I ask her when Dean is coming. She tells me to shut up again. So I’ll write it down because apparently it _helps_.

When is Dean coming?

  


She’s told me off for writing like this. She says it shouldn’t be about her and she’d really rather it wasn’t. I ask her why and she says that I’m not trying; I’m not doing it properly. She says I’m meant to write how I _feel_ , not what _she says_. She called it avoidance. I told her she’s not a nurse. Then I told her I don’t _feel_ anything and she told me not to be stupid.

She lists examples as;

I feel happy.  
I feel sad.  
I feel angry.  
I feel bored.

I say I feel none of these and she turns away, exasperated. I say I feel confined. She says that’s a start, now write about that....

I’ve been in this vessel so long I feel like I am it. I feel like my wings aren’t really wings anymore as I’m no longer allowed to fly. They’re just invisible dead weight on my shoulders. It’s been so long since I’ve felt like ‘Castiel’ that I’m not even sure who he is anymore. If I were human I would believe I was insane. I feel like if I could just fly, everything would fall back into place inside of me. I’m not allowed to fly. I stretch my wings out, just to make sure I still can. I’ve been clipped.

  


Dean came today. I don’t think he likes it that I’m not fully me. I don’t think I like it either. I don’t think he understands how much his coming meant to me because I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say anything to him. He wouldn’t look at me. Not properly. His eyes would dart over me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I can’t quite tell if he is still angry with me or if he pities me. I dislike human emotions. I dislike writing about them. They make my head hurt.

  


They lowered my drug dosage today. I tried to tell them any form of drugging would be useless but they wouldn’t listen. Frustrated, I smashed the glass in the window after they’d left and somehow that made them think they needed to up my dosage, rather than lower it. I’m in a different room now. This one has no windows. I miss the window.

  


Dean isn’t coming this week. He’s _busy_. I’m trying not to resent this. Knowing him, he’s probably saving the world ~~or breaking it again~~. I shouldn’t be put before that, not after what I’ve done.

But I want to be.

  


The drugs make the body tired. I’ve tried to tell it that it is under my command not theirs but it betrays me in favour of sleep. I don’t like it, it disorientates me. It sometimes takes whole days away from me and then I’m left to stare at the ceiling all night. Sometimes I see stars and I wonder what’s in the drugs. Other times I see Dean and wonder if it’s the drugs at all.

  


He came again today. I think he’s starting to forgive me now. He called me Cas and asked how I was doing. I lied and said I was fine and am happy here. I said the demon whore wasn’t really a nurse and he said he knew. She’s looking after me on his command. He cares what happens to me. He didn’t just leave me here. He would never just leave me here.

  


His soul shines like fire in the darkness. He is The Righteous Man saved from hell by my hand. I can still feel the burn of his skin on my palm as I ascended from the flames with him in my arms, to save the world or destroy it.

He is more than a man.

 ~~As am I.~~ Am I?

  


He is a singularity of clearness in my thoughts. Everything else blurs around him. I would believe anyone that said the world revolves around him because it sure seems that way. I’m getting tired of writing these things down. Next time he comes, I’ll say something.

  


He doesn’t come for a while. It’s almost like he knows something will happen of paramount importance if he does. I don’t need a listed example of emotions anymore, I feel them all. Is this what they meant by _it helps_? Is feeling a good thing? Does writing it down really do anything more than make you expose yourself on paper and ink?

I feel sad.  
I feel depressed.  
I feel lonely.  
I feel impatient.  
I feel desperate.  
I feel...too much.

  


He finally came and I almost forgot I had to tell him. As he was getting up to go, the thoughts all jumped up in my throat and longed to escape. I said anything and everything to get him to stay, apart from that one word he’s scared of.

He stayed, listened to my scrambled thoughts, sorted them out for me and explained it so it sounded so simple. I’m not myself apparently.

But I am myself. My name is scrawled all over this book in ownership, just like Dean is marked as mine by my handprint scalded into his skin. 

If I believe it, why can’t he?

Sam willed Lucifer into existence just by thinking it. Why can’t I do that?

I’m an Angel of the Lord, he should do as I say and feel as I feel. He is my human.

  


He comes back again too soon. I’m back to a stage where I can’t look at him without wanting to _do something_. I don’t know what I’d do but it’d be _something_.

I think he will lie or pity me but he just sits there for a while looking. And then he finally says ‘ok’.

I don’t know what he means but I take it to be a step in the right direction and so I say it as well.

Ok.

  


I haven’t heard anything since the ‘ok’ day so I ask the demon what happened. She laughs at me and tells me I’m naive.

She takes her time, teases me and pokes fun at my actions before announcing that I apparently ‘laid myself open like a virgin at a prom’. I don’t know what that meant so she explained it again, apparently I told him I loved him.

I told her I didn’t because Dean seems to fear that word more than anything that can be salted and burned.

She just shook her head and asked me if I even know what I’m doing.

I told her that I honestly don’t.

I haven’t known what I was doing since I put him back in his grave.

  


I told him that I wasn’t fully aware of what I’d said before.

He asked me if I wished to take it back.

I said I didn’t.

He said ‘ok’ again.

I asked what that meant and he listed various synonyms for ‘ok’. Finally he said, uncomfortably, that it meant he was glad I wasn’t taking it back.

Meg says we can’t fuck on hospital property. 

I tell her I don’t submit to carnal urges like humans do.

She reminds me that I’m still wearing a human.

That’s why I’m writing. Thanks to her, my vessel won’t let me sleep in peace without teasing me with vivid images of the most delicious sins it can think of.

Being human must be horribly hard.

  


This time, Dean sat beside me, not across from me and insisted on holding me as I told him about my progress, or apparent lack of progress. It was so close to perfect that it almost felt like it wasn’t real.

He makes me tell him about everything that I’ve done. Apparently it is therapy. I don’t like it. Each time I tell him about one of my digressions, he rewards me with small touches.

I don’t deserve him or his forgiveness. I tell him not to come back.

They’ve changed my meds again. Apparently the others had too many side effects.

  


She’s going to take this book from me, I know she is. I can hear it in her head. Her thoughts seep from her like more of that black smoke.

  


When I woke up, this book was different. She was sitting over me reading some poor excuse for literature that she describes as a magazine. She looked a bit tense when she noticed me. I vaguely remember hurting her, or wanting to hurt her, which is probably enough to make her tense. I’m not going to apologize. She took my book.

I know she did because when I picked it up, it smelt like whisky and gunpowder and to me that is synonymous with Dean.

I don’t mind. If he wanted to read it, I would not deny him it. I wouldn’t deny him _anything_ should he ask. I just resent the demon’s cheap perfume and how it has tainted his scent.

  


I sleep with this clutched to my chest now and I think she knows why. She doesn’t explicitly say anything. She just smiles weakly and says “Don’t worry, Clarence, he’s coming.”

And then she leaves. She thinks I don’t notice when she leaves because she always makes sure her hand slips and I get one more of those useless pills than I’m meant to. But I do notice. She never tells me where she’s going. She just states that she is and that’s that.

When she comes back, she smells even more of him and she refuses to say a word about why. 

She seems almost angry.

Why does she get to see him when I don’t?

I feel almost angry.

  


Dean says I don’t have to write anymore, I have him now.

  


 

  
DEAN   


  
  
_And the heart is hard to translate_  
It has a language of its own  
It talks in tongues and quiet sighs,  
And prayers and proclamations  


  
_And the words are all escaping, and coming back all damaged_  
And I would put them back in poetry if I only knew how  
I can’t seem to understand it  


 

  


“We need to talk.” Meg said into the cell phone. “Where are you?” She nodded and wrote an address on the back of her hand before hanging up.

“I’m going be gone for a while, don’t try anything, ‘k?” She said over her shoulder as she shrugged on her jacket, she didn’t wait for a reply because if she did, she could be waiting until Judgement Day for all the good it’d do her.

She took a few seconds to adjust to her new settings and then walked through the motel room door, not bothering to knock, they were expecting her.

“You need to see this.” She nodded over to Dean and threw him a battered looking book.

“What is it?” He looked at it and raised his eyebrows.

“It’s Angelcake’s diary. He damn near smote me when I tried to get it off him. Thank modern medicine for Haldol or I wouldn’t have eyes right about now.”

“Is he alright?” Dean asked, worried.

“Oh, he’s fine. Well, as fine as someone with a screw loose can be. He still doesn’t do much of anything but write in that thing. I was all for leaving him to it until I happened to look over his shoulder yesterday...”

“And?”

“And he threw me through a wall. That one was difficult to explain away.”

“Ok. I’m sorry about that but...what exactly is the problem?”

“Read it.” She said, pulling up a chair.

He read a few pages and then looked at her sceptically. “This isn’t so bad. It’s just a really boring account of everything you and he talk about.”

“Yeah, the kicker is...he’s barely said a word to me, not like this. I handed it to him about four weeks ago and told him he had to write in it and that’s the only thing I’ve said that’s in that book. Keep reading, you’ll see.”

Dean kept reading until something clicked in his brain. “But I haven’t seen him since...” _Since you left him there_ , his brain finished helpfully.

“Yep and I’d say he’s not taking it too well.” Meg said, her words holding more than a shadow of blame in them. It was odd feeling, having a demon make him feel guilty.

“All of it? I mean...none of it actually happened?” He asked closing the book.

“There’s a few things. He has blown out more than a few windows, especially when he asks if you’re coming and I tell him you’re busy. That’s the only thing he ever says. _Is Dean coming today?_ Then when I tell him no, he either throws a fit and breaks things or goes all quiet and writes for hours. I’m guessing that’s when he writes those scenes, the ones where you do come.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“No? Well, you’re gonna have to think of something cause if you don’t start showing your face, I’m going to get fired and who’s going to look after him then because obviously you aren’t.”

“Hey, that’s out of line.” Sam said, speaking for the first time since Meg entered the room.

“It needs saying.” She resisted the urge to point out that when it was Sam in that very same ward, the world damn near stopped until Castiel fixed him. “Look, I’m working my ass off trying to make sure nobody twigs to who I’ve got tucked up in bed. If the demons find out then we’re fucked and if the hospital staff find out, that’s it for our whole secret little world. So what I don’t need is Clark Kent jumping off of rooftops and trying to fly so he can go and find his Lois Lane. It’s only because he’s so doped up right now that he’s staying put, so if you could be so kind as to not give him a reason to try and escape?”

“Ok.” Dean said quietly, almost unsure. “Ok.” He said again, this time with resolve. “Can you take me there?”

“Do I look like an Angel to you?” She picked up his keys and tossed them to him. “Drive.” She picked up the book and headed for the door. “I’ll catch up with you in a few days. I don’t like leaving him on his own for too long.”

She walked out the door and by the time Dean had caught up, she was gone.

  


Dean’s phone rang and he picked it up, steering with one hand. He’d barely finished reading out his co-ordinates before he spotted her, standing at the side of the road, arms crossed and hip cocked to the side. It’s not the same as hearing a flutter of wings but it’s enough to make him think of Cas.

He pulled over and waited for her to get in, almost wishing he didn’t have to. He silently reminded himself that he owed her. She was looking after Cas because he couldn’t, even right at this moment she was here because Dean still wasn’t there.

“What’s taking so long?” She asked, looking out over the back road countryside that Dean was driving through.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah because the scenic route is the one to take when you’re in a _hurry_.” Meg rolled her eyes at him, wondering who was harder to talk sense to, him or Cas.

“I wanted to be on the safe side, I don’t want anyone following me.” Dean lied.

“Yeah, and I’m working as a nurse because the pay is great and I dig the uniform. Pull the other one, sweetcheeks.”

“I’m not talking about this with _you_.” Dean took his eyes off the road to glare at her before looking back.

“Ouch. Lucky I’m thick skinned. Between you and Mr. Cheerful back home, I’m beginning to think you people don’t like me.” She said with a superficial smile. She didn’t really care but it was fun to wind him up.

“Now aren’t you observant?” Dean replied with an equally fake smile.

“Where’s the taller version of you at? I think I like him better.”

“He’s staying behind, finishing the case.”

“Good. I think you and Cas need some alone time.”

They drove in silence for a few hours, with Meg pointedly looking at that little nurse’s watch that was hanging off her scrubs every few minutes. Finally, it irritated Dean enough for him to speak.

“I can’t. I just can’t.” Dean said, staring out into the road like it might open up and swallow them both.

Meg didn’t say anything. It was really hard not to, there were so many jokes just dying to be made but she _wanted_ him to talk, it’d make her life easier.

“What if I go there and I can’t forgive him? That’s what he needs right? He needs me to go in there and tell him everything is alright, but what if I can’t?”

“You smile and you pretend.”

“He broke the wall in Sam’s head. He could have killed him.”

“Yeah and then he fixed him and now _he’s_ the one in the loony bin being haunted by ghosts. Cut the dude some slack.”

“I want to, I really do but what if I can’t?”

“Fine, let’s say you can’t. Let’s say your personal problems are bigger than his whole entire fucking life right now, so you leave and he keeps on playing peek-a-boo with me and walls and make believing that everything _is_ alright because that’s him trying to cope. Meanwhile, we keep upping the drugs because he keeps getting more delusional and more violent until one day, all he can do is stare up at the ceiling praying that you’re going to fall from it. But yeah, if you can’t grow a pair and even try, I’m sure he’ll understand.” She finished sarcastically.

Dean gave her a look and she found herself wondering when she started caring what happened to any of them.

“Fine. I’ll _try_.” Dean said, still looking at her funnily.

“Good. Now take a highway will you, fuck’s sake.” She turned to look to look out the window before disappearing.

  


Dean turned onto the highway and he felt like a teenager about to go on his first rollercoaster. What if it all went wrong and everyone ended up off the rails? What if it went right? What if he didn’t know whether it was going right or not?

He had committed himself to a decision when he saw how much more Meg seemed to care about Cas’ wellbeing that he did. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to examine that part of him. The part that hurt like someone was trying to suck his heart out through a straw. On some level, Meg had made him look at that part. She’d held a magnifying glass over him like he was a fly and what he felt was the sun. 

Then he dealt with that vulnerability by turning it into jealousy. How dare she know what Cas needed? How dare she presume to tell him what he needed to do? Which of course, made him admit that he knew what he needed to do, he had done since the day he pulled out of that hospital parking lot. And now here he was, finally doing it. He wondered if that had been what she was planning all along.

He looked over at the empty seat. He remembered how hard it had been, suddenly faced with Cas again, trying to explain to him what this ‘friend’ of his had done while Cas, though it wasn’t really him, said how sorry he was.

He couldn’t get them out of his head. All those times he’d said ‘sorry’. That time, covered in blood, weak as a kitten, sacrificing himself to save the world. Had he died doing that and the world had been saved, he could have forgiven him there and then because that’s what people did in the face of martyrdom, they forgave everything. But he hadn’t and the world wasn’t saved and it was all for nothing and then he left again.

It had taken Dean a while, but he had started to forgive him after that. And then he was back again and Sam was suffering while Cas had moved on, picked up a wife and was living a picket fence life. All Dean could think was how unfair it was. He couldn’t even put his finger on what it was exactly that made him want to kick and scream like a child but there was something.

And that something was back again now. It was punching against his ribs in a bid to make itself heard. It was making his blood boil in his veins and push through them with a kind of urgency that he rarely felt anymore. He wanted to put his foot to the floor and fuck the consequences, just drive until he had nowhere else to go. He pulled over for fear that he would give into that urge.

“Fuck.”

  


After a few minutes he rejoined the rest of the traffic, telling himself to stop being such a girl and get on with it. The voice in his head sounded almost more like Meg’s than his own but it did the trick. Within three hours, he was parked outside the hospital, staring at it like it was hell itself.

“Come on, it’s still Cas!” He told himself, trying to think of all the battles they’d fought side by side and all the time he’d had his life saved by him.

He forced himself to open the car door and made his legs walk though the automatic doors. He stood in the elevator, muttering to himself, nobody noticing because let’s face it, he had pressed the button for the psyche ward. 

He stepped out the elevator and realised he didn’t know where he was going. Was he in Sam’s old room? Was he on the same ward? Was he even on this floor?

He approached the desk, feeling naked because he hadn’t thought to bring any of his fake i.ds with him. He couldn’t even remember what fake name they’d given Cas when they’d had him committed.

“Hi. I’m looking for Nurse...” He took a breath, searching back in his mind to the small blonde Meg had been wearing when they had first met. “Masters?”

“She’s with a doctor right now, can I take a message?” The nurse on reception asked, implying he wasn’t going to see her anytime soon.

“She’s expecting me.”

The nurse just raised an eyebrow, not giving any ground.

“It’s really...urgent.”

“Are you a family member?” The nurse asked with a sigh.

“No.” Dean answered too quickly, kicking himself. “I’m err, I’m her husband.” He added with a helpless shrug. It was either that or roam the corridors, sticking his head through doors until security got hold of him.

“I can page her.”

“That’d be great.”

The nurse picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. A few seconds later the phone rang and she answered it, watching Dean as she did so. He was reminded of the many times police had done this when he handed them the FBI card with Bobby’s number on it.

“She’s in room B12, she says _about time_.” The nurse said and Dean thanked her.

When he walked into room B12, he expected to see her with Cas but it was her sat on a bed, with a doctor leaning over her. For a second, he felt like walking back out and apologising for interrupting, thinking he’d gotten the wrong room. But the doctor turned and he saw Meg’s head lean slightly to the side to make herself known. He was in the process of giving her stitches, just above her right cheekbone.

“Hi...honey.” Meg said the word like it stuck to her tongue, it made Dean feel odd because snarky endearments normally rolled out of her mouth with every other sentence. She was obviously pissed off.

“Hey.” Dean said back, just as awkwardly. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. One of the patients just threw me across a room and I happened to catch a bit of...ceiling plaster. Nothing to worry about.”

“One of the patients?” Dean asked, really meaning _was it Cas?_

“I can’t say, remember _patient confidentiality_ sweetie.” She coughed, discreetly nodding at the doctor who was preparing her a bandage but giving him a look that said _who do you think it was?_

The doctor stuck the bandage to her cheek and gave her what Dean could only describe as a pat on the head. “That’s you all patched up. Do you feel like you need a sticker or are you not that far gone yet?”

“Not yet.” Meg said, with a laugh so fake it made Dean’s skin crawl but the doctor didn’t seem to notice.

“Alright, I’ll leave you in here for a moment. Have a glass of water and wait for the drugs to kick in before you start dishing them out to everyone else.”

Meg nodded and pretended to lie back on the bed.

“Take good care of her. She’s a good woman.”

“Yeah. One of a kind.” Dean said, opening and closing the door for the doctor. “Well, that was awkward.”

“You started it. You couldn’t have just said you were _his_ husband, make my life simpler.” 

“I forgot the John Doe we gave him.” Dean said, letting the implication of Meg’s comment slide.

“Yeah, that’s cause you didn’t, I did.” Meg smiled to herself. “I went with Henry Travers. Nobody’s noticed yet.”

Dean looked at her, completely confused and she sighed.

“I weep for the modern generation. Henry Travers. It’s A Wonderful Life.” She raised her eyebrows. “He’s the _Angel_.”

“Oh right, the ‘Clarence’ thing. I never did get that.”

“Neither does he.” She pointed to the end of her bed, bringing her legs up so that he could sit. “Take a seat.”

“Ok.” Dean said, sitting awkwardly on the starched sheets.

“Pretending to be human is a bitch. Do you know how hard it is to sit there and keep a wound open while someone with dodgy eyesight haphazardly pokes a needle and thread through you?”

“My heart bleeds.”

“So it should. You should be doing this, not me.”

“Alright, enough of the guilt trip. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Fine. Though you’re a bit late today. Something must have snapped in that pretty little head of his because when I came back from telling you to get a move on, he took one look at me, cocked his head like he does and I found myself bouncing off the ceiling. He didn’t even lay a finger on me either, I can’t tell if that means he’s getting better or worse.”

“It doesn’t exactly sound good. If he decides to go postal on this place, they won’t be able to handle him.”

“Well, as shocking as it is, the reactionary stuff is working quite well. Every time he pulls something like this, they somehow pin him down and pump him full of Haldol. That seems to be working well enough on his vessel at least, it turns him docile as a kitten but they can’t keep him on it long term. The rest of the time they’ve got him on benzos and Abilify, which he probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid at but I’ve been fiddling the numbers and giving him enough to kill a baby elephant.”

“Is that safe?” Dean asked, his eyes betraying him slightly.

“I doubt it, but I’m sure he can cope.” 

“And the side effects?” Dean asked, not convinced.

“Well, aside from what he’s obviously not telling me about,” She said, referring to the contents of his diary. “All the ones he’s showing are just as much side effects of being what he is. He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t communicate like a normal person, he thinks his nurse is a demon from the depths of hell. You know, the usual stuff.” Meg shrugged.

“And the stuff he’s not telling you about?”

“It could be because of the drugs. But then it could be because of the clusterfuck of insanity he took out of your brother’s head. Or it could just be the poor sap’s way of coping. I don’t know, not a real nurse.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not today. He’s doped up in the padded room. They won’t even let _me_ see him.”

“What am I meant to do then?” Dean asked, trying his best not to be annoyed by the fact he’d finally gotten through the doors only to be turned away at the last minute.

“Go back to my place.” She stuck her hand in her pocket and chucked him a set of keys. “It’s about a block north and has the hospital logo on it. Fourteenth floor, apartment C.”

Dean gave her a look as if to say _not on your life_ and Meg rolled her eyes. “I won’t be there until long after your little human body has given in for the night.”

“Fine.” Dean said and walked out the door.

  


When Dean woke the next morning, he was glad to notice Meg had told him the truth. The only evidence she had ever been there was a post-it note on her empty fridge telling him that Cas would be awake by now and he should come as soon as he could.

He shrugged on his jacket and started walking. Today he was determined not to let a silly thing like _thinking_ get the better of him. And it worked, as he breezed through the automatic doors and pressed elevator buttons like he belonged there. This time, the nurse on reception was a different one and let him straight through when he asked for Castiel’s fake name. Meg came to meet him by the first set of locked doors.

“How you doing?” She asked, swiping her card over a flashing light and eyeing up the other nurses within earshot.

“I’m alright.” Dean answered, still not thinking.

“No, you’re bricking it. It’ll be fine.” The door bleeped and she pushed it open, waiting for Dean to walk through it. “Move.” She said, accompanied by a discreet push to make him move.

Dean walked and took in the white walls, white floors and white scrubs. He felt like he’d drained all the color out of the room by wearing it. Each closed door was only differentiated by the number on it and each open one contained a different person staring into space.

Cas’ door was open and for a moment, Dean forgot everything else. He looked so small and delicate, his white scrubs blending into the white hospital sheet he was sat on. It was difficult to believe that somewhere in there was a creature that could destroy the world if he put his mind to it and could bring down the building with a blink of his eye.

“Hey.” Dean said, automatically taking on that sympathetic, patronizing tone everyone seemed to speak in when visiting someone who was sick.

Castiel didn’t say anything, he didn’t appear to move but because Dean was studying him so hard, he noticed one corner of his mouth move, like it was trying to smile but he wasn’t quite sure it could. 

He gave Meg a look, not sure if he wanted her to stay or leave them. 

“If I get fired, you can dress up as a nurse next.” She said as she closed the door.

Dean looked around the room, nervous and completely at a loss for what to say and what to do with himself. He spotted a chair and sat down on it before got up again and started pacing.

“So,” Dean started helplessly. Every possible conversation starter had deserted him.

Castiel’s eyes kept flicking from Dean and the book that was sat on his nightstand. Dean knew why, or at least he thought he knew. Castiel was trying to figure out what was different, what was real. Finally his eyes focused on Dean.

“You came.”

  


Dean spent an hour desperately trying to think up conversation starters and then watching them fail. He tried the weather, recent hunts, how Sam was doing and nothing stuck. Castiel would just sit and watch him, like he was scared that any minute he might disappear. Dean wanted to tell him that he wasn’t going anywhere but he didn’t want to make promises that could be broken.

Meg came back for him, explaining it was the end of her shift and he had to go or join the payroll. He stood up and got his coat and caught Castiel’s eyes out of the corner of his own. They had gone wide like a child’s and Dean knew on some level, he was trying not to cry because his bottom lip gave the barest tremble.

“I’ve got to go.” He said, barely above a whisper while stepping up to the bed. “I’ll be back in...” He trailed off, looking to Meg for an answer.

“Twelve hours.” She supplied.

“See, I’ll be back real soon.” Dean said, making those last few steps and reaching out a hand, not entirely sure what he planned to do with it. The action left his chest wide open and to his surprise, Castiel leaned towards him, resting his head against Dean’s stomach, not making any other move to hug him properly.

Dean stayed still for a moment not sure if moving would disturb him. When Cas didn’t move, he brought his hand up to his head, vaguely stroking his hair, making it stand up at funny angles like it used to.

“This is a beautiful moment, Clarence, but we need to be going.” Meg said, breaking the silence that had crept up around them.

Castiel ignored her and looked up at Dean expectantly. “She’s right, Cas.” Dean said and Castiel sat back up straight, like he’d never moved. “I’ll see you later.” He added and headed for the door while he still felt like he could drag himself away.

“How’d it go?” Meg asked as soon as they were out of the hospital.

“Ok, I guess. He didn’t really say anything but he didn’t ignore me either, he just kind of sat there staring.” Dean honestly didn’t know if that was progress or not, maybe he stared at everyone.

“I didn’t mean him.” She said, pointedly.

“Oh.” Dean said and then paused for a long time. “I don’t know. I’m not angry at him, I just wish we hadn’t ended up like this.” He finally answered.

“Well, that’s gotta be worth something.” She said, holding her hand out for the keys Dean still had. 

When they were in the apartment, she pulled Cas’ diary out of her bag. “I took this from him while you were being his teddybear.”

“What did you do that for? He’s going to throw a fit when he realises.”

“Yeah and I’m used to his fits. I’ll take it back later, I figured if you stand any chance of fixing him, this is his way of explaining how.”

Dean took the book off her and nodded, knowing that somewhere deep down, this was the only cry for help Cas was going to give.

  


Dean flicked through the first half of the book, trying to find the end. Some morbid curiosity made him want to see what Castiel had written in it since he’d last seen it. Afterwards, he wished he hadn’t. He could follow each of Castiel’s thoughts to each time Meg had ended up hurt, or as hurt as a demon could get.

Dean was suddenly thankful that he’d asked her to look after him and that she’d agreed to it. He didn’t want to think about the situation they’d be in if he’d been given a human nurse. He felt he should apologize to her or thank her but things were awkward enough as it was, so he wouldn’t.

He went back a few pages, to what he presumed Cas had written when he was taken off the heavy duty drugs and his delusions were given free rein. He wished he had a shrink on speed dial to help him decipher it all.

He looked over the first instance of him being there. He knew it was all in Cas’ head and written long before today but he couldn’t help but find it eerie. Cas had been right in some aspects, he hadn’t said anything, or not much at least and he was right about him, he hadn’t been able to look at him, not properly. But he’d been wrong about why, he wasn’t angry at him, he didn’t pity him and it wasn’t that he didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t completely Castiel. It was the opposite; Dean hated himself for finding it easier to forgive him while he was like this. He wished he’d been able to forgive him before, while he was still fully aware of what was going on. At least it made him more determined to get his old Cas back, so he could forgive him too.

He read through the next pages, concentrating more on them than he had before. He found himself immersed and just like Cas, imagining things that never happened.

Meg breezed through the room and Dean jumped guiltily. She took one look at him and laughed.

“You know he’s in love with you, right?”

“What?” Dean said, shutting the book as she approached; even though he knew she’d already read it.

“Oh, come on.” She snatched the book up before he could stop her. She opens a page at random though he doubts it’s random at all. “His soul shines like fire in the darkness...” She turned a page. “He is a singularity of clearness in my thoughts. Everything else blurs around him. I would believe anyone that...”

Dean snatched the book off her, angry at how she was twisting Castiel’s words into something to be made fun of. He could see the implication of Castiel’s words as clear as day and he didn’t need her spelling it out for him.

“Well?” She asks expectantly.

“Well, what?” He asks, glaring at her.

“Do you love him?”

He stares at her for a minute, waiting for the joke or scathing remark that usually followed everything she said but for once she was just asking a question, even if it’s a question he doesn’t want to answer.

“Can we drop this now?”

“You should tell him. It’s what he wants.”

“He’s not himself.”

“That’s what he said you’d say. Look, sweetheart, he’s got you down to a tee here. You can’t give the guy what he wants, just for a few days? He’s given you an instruction manual on what he wants, you’ve basically got a script, would it kill you to play along?”

Dean didn’t say anything, he just stared down at the book, still open, Castiel’s words all running together in his head.

“It’s what you want too, right? To have him sit on your lap and pretend that everything’s ok?”

“Shut up.” He said, finally getting up, taking the book with him.

He spent almost half an hour walking before he found somewhere that sold alcohol at three in the afternoon. He ordered enough drinks to see him through the next few hours and opened the book again.

With each drink the words got hazier and Meg’s words got louder, more insistent.

_It’s what you want too, right? Would it kill you to play along? Do you love him? You should tell him. It’s what he wants. You know he’s in love with you, right?_

He put down the glass and closed his eyes, trying to drown out her voice. It just replaced itself with Cas’, which was so much better but almost worse.

_It’s what you want too, right?_

He couldn’t do it, it wasn’t right, not with the way Cas was. It didn’t matter that he...He stopped himself, the words stalling in his mind.

_You fear that word more than anything that can be salted and burned._

“God damn it, Cas.”

He did the last shot left on the table and got up, not knowing what he planned to do but knowing he had to do something.

  


He walked straight past the hospital, knowing he couldn’t go in there without Meg. He kept walking until he reached her apartment.

“So what if I love him? He nearly killed Sam!” He said, slamming the door behind him. Meg barely looked up from her book.

“Who are you trying to convince there, me or you?”

Dean stopped, the fight knocked out of him. “I should hate him for what he’s done.”

“But you don’t.”

Dean paused, trying to remember the last time he’d felt anything definite. “No.”

“So let me get this straight, all this time you’ve been running me around the mulberry bush because you couldn’t accept that you loved him. One of these days, I will kill you, just for being such a pain in my ass.”

  


They went back to the hospital in the early hours of the morning. Each corridor seemed deserted and each patient was asleep, except one.

When Dean entered Castiel’s room, he was staring fixedly at the clock. 

“You’re fifteen seconds early.” Castiel noted and Dean couldn’t help but be the slightest bit relieved, he was talking.

“Do you want me to go out and come back in again?” Dean asked.

“No. The fifteen seconds have passed now.”

“Ok.” Dean said out of habit. Castiel turned to look at him, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Ok.” He said back.

Dean smiled despite himself, Meg had been right, Cas had basically written them a script.

“How are you doing?” Dean asked, almost sitting down on the chair before changing his mind. This time he was going to do it properly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Castiel moved over to accommodate him.

“I’m fine.” He said, just like he had in the book.

“That means you’re not.” Dean countered.

“I don’t like all the white. There are so many colours in the spectrum, why do they like this one so much?” He said, changing the subject.

“I don’t know.” Dean replied, not distracted. He kicked his shoes off and put his feet up on the bed. He noticed Castiel look around uncertainly, obviously Dean had left Castiel’s script for how this was meant to go.

“Why aren’t you fine?” Dean said, still pushing the question, determined to get at least a mildly straight answer.

“I have too much time to think here.”

“What do you think about?”

“You.” He paused, considering what else to say. “And all the terrible things I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Meg says I should write.”

“You don’t have to write. You can talk to me.”

Castiel looked uncertain again and Dean put his arm around him, an invitation to be closer if he wanted to. “It’s ok.”

There was a moment where Cas just looked at him and Dean thought he’d crossed some line or another but he accepted the invitation, shuffling down and putting his head to Dean’s chest.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief; the plan seemed to be working.

“You tell me what you want me to talk about and I’ll talk.” Castiel said, putting Dean in a difficult position. What if he picked something Castiel really _didn’t_ want to talk about? He had a million questions he wanted to ask but none of them were fair. Not like this.

“What do _you_ want to talk about?” Dean said, putting the ball back in his court.

“You.” Cas answered straight away.

“Ok.”

“Why didn’t you kill me when I did what I did?”

Dean didn’t answer, not sure what to say.

“You threatened to.”

He swallowed; he’d hoped Cas had forgotten that. “I didn’t, I said I’d stop you.”

“That’s the same thing. Then you called in Death to do it for you and so you should have. I killed enough people.”

“Do you want to talk about them?” Dean asked, desperately wanting to change where this conversation was heading.

“All of them? We’d be here until the end of time.”

“Who then?”

“I don’t regret killing Raphael. I know he was my brother but he could not be allowed to destroy the world, not after I fought so hard to make it right for you.”

“Ok.”

“Do you remember when I came to you and told you Rachel had turned on me?”

“Yeah.”

“She did. But she was right to do so. I killed her. I regret that. She always had faith in me; I should have known I had chosen the wrong path when she turned on me.”

“When did you realize?” Dean asked, his curiosity beating everything else down.

“When you turned on me. But it was too late then.”

“It didn’t have to be. We would have helped you.” Dean said and Castiel went quiet. “Ok, who else?”

“My brother.”

“Which one, you lot are all brothers.”

“Balthazar.”

Dean had suspected as much when Balthazar didn’t come to them after what they thought had been Castiel’s death. Before that they’d presumed he’d jumped ship but him and Cas had been too close for him to not acknowledge his death. Cas didn’t have anyone left to mourn him except him, Sam and Bobby, Dean thought sadly.

“Did he turn on you?”

“I turned on him. I knew he was helping you and it was easier to silence him than to silence you.”

“Ok.” Dean said again, the word starting to sound strange where he’d said it so many times but he honestly didn’t know what else to say.

“I shouldn’t have been brought back. You should have seen Heaven when I went back, there were more corpses than ground to lay them on by the time I was finished. The human race was lucky you stopped me when you did.”

“I didn’t stop you. You stopped yourself. You came to us, remember?”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Why? You did the right thing. You came to us and you tried to fix it. You tried your best.”

The light bulb above them blew out and Castiel pushed his head further into Dean’s chest, his arms wrapping themselves around his waist like a frightened child.

“What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t fix it. You said so.”

Dean was about to say something, anything to make him feel better when Meg walked through the door, the light from the corridor making her a silhouette in the doorway.

“Ok, I think that’s enough for tonight.” She said, sounding for once like an actual nurse.

Castiel arms tightened almost painfully around him.

“No. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

“I don’t think so, come on.”

“No!” Castiel shouted at her and she just folded her arms. Dean had the feeling they had done this before. Maybe this was how she ended up thrown through walls.

“Just a few more minutes?” Dean asked, hoping he could talk Cas down.

“Fine.” Meg said through clenched teeth, obviously not pleased. “Would you like another light bulb for him to smash?” She asked sarcastically.

“No, we’re fine.” Dean said, thinking it would probably be easier in the dark.

“Fine.” She said again and closed the door.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel said as soon as she left.

“It’s ok. I shouldn’t have...” Dean didn’t know how to finish his sentence. _I shouldn’t have brought it up? I shouldn’t have said it in the first place? I should have forgiven you?_ He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to talk anymore if you don’t want to.”

“Ok.” Cas said and loosened his grip slightly, he was still curled around Dean but now he wasn’t clinging to him. 

They laid in the dark like that, Dean holding Castiel while he drew patterns on his chest, occasionally telling him what he was drawing.

  


When Dean opened his eyes, the white almost blinded him. The broken bulb above him came into focus and he vaguely wondered where all the light was coming from before he realised it was daylight.

“Morning, sunshine.” A voice said and Dean groaned when he realised who it was.

“What time is it?”

“About noon, I had to ask to work overtime so that Goldilocks could keep sleeping in baby bear’s bed.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Dean asked, realising he must have fallen asleep.

“Look at him.” Meg pointed and Dean leaned his head back, trying to see Castiel’s face, which was impossible no matter how far he craned his neck.

“What?” Dean asked, giving up.

“He’s asleep.”

“And?” 

“And I didn’t need to drug him; he was already like that when I came to check on you.”

“Help me up?”

“Don’t you dare, you’re not going anywhere until he wakes up.”

  


That turned out to be less time than Meg had hoped. Once Dean was awake and knew he couldn’t move, every bone in his body petitioned him to stretch and each nerve seemed to make him limbs twitch of their own accord. Within ten minutes Castiel had woken up.

He looked at Dean for a while, seemingly trying to stare him out but Dean just let him stare, not even moving in case it disturbed whatever it was that was going through Castiel’s mind. When Dean didn’t do anything and didn’t disappear, Castiel rubbed his eyes. Dean almost laughed; he looked so much like a surprised cartoon character.

“You’re...” Castiel started, trailing off before the thought was finished.

“Still here?” Dean finished for him.

“Different.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.” Cas repeated and Dean shivered slightly at how well he was starting to mimic him. He was starting to regret running with this ‘ok’ idea. Dean got up off the bed and reached for his jacket.

“I was thinking...” He said, not sure how to broach the sensitive topic. “Do you really need that anymore?”

Castiel’s eyes followed Dean’s to where the battered book sat. Dean didn’t even know why he didn’t want Cas to have it. Maybe it was guilt where he hadn’t been there or maybe it was jealousy for what had been there in his place. He really didn’t want to think about it, he just knew he didn’t like the idea of it.

“They told me I had to write. About my...feelings.” He said the word like he was afraid the eight letters might summon some great evil.

“Yeah but now you can talk about them. With me.”

“Do you talk about your feelings?” Castiel countered.

“I could try.” Dean said, almost biting his tongue with the effort. He’d say anything to help Castiel but part of him was trying to claw its way out and Dean had a suspicion that ‘talking about his feelings’ might just be the chance it needed to escape.

“Ok.” Castiel said and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Ok. Now I need a shower and I need a few more hours sleep. I’ll be back soon, I promise.” He said as he fetched the book and made his way to the door.

“I trust you.” Castiel said, sitting back down on the bed so he could watch Dean leave through the open door.

  


When Meg came through the door, Dean didn’t hear her, he was too busy reading Cas’ diary, yet again. When she leaned over him and snatched the book away, he spun out of chair and nearly decked her before he realised he wasn’t in any danger.

“Geez, you’re as bad as he is.” She muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Dean said as an explanation.

“What are you doing with this? What happened to _Oooh Meg, don’t take his precious book, he’ll get all upset..._?”

“I asked first.” Dean said defensively, making a grab for the book and failing.

“You know, as someone forcibly working in healthcare, I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Save it.” He simply held out his hand for the book now. “I’m doing what you said; I’m using it to help me help him.” Dean said, almost completely lying.

“As long as you know what you’re doing.” She sighed and handed over the book.

  


“Small touches.” Dean said to himself not realising he was speaking aloud.

“What’s that?” Meg asked, looking up from her magazine. That was all she seemed to do, read magazines and trashy novels.

Dean looked at her, hesitating. He was more than a little confused by her by now, she seemed to want to help but then she’d follow it up with teasing or straight up rudeness. 

“It says when he talks, I reward him with _small touches_. What does that mean?”

“I seem to remember my alter-ego saying something about how he’s still a man. Maybe he just wants to be jerked off?” 

“Thank you.” He said, regretting asking her.

“No, I’m serious. He understands the idea, he writes about it. He says it himself; he’s inside a human vessel. Maybe now that the Angel side of him has gone a bit screwy, the human side is affecting him. He fell asleep all by himself last night, remember? That’s pretty human.”

“I’m not...” Dean started and then trailed off, starting again. “I can’t...”

“Spit it out.”

“It would be taking advantage. I can’t do that.”

“I’m sure there’s many a drunken girl that will speak against that.”

“That’s different.” Dean glared at her. “He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“If you ask me he’s being pretty clear about what he wants.”

“It might just be how we’re reading it. Who knows what he’s thinking, he’s hard enough to figure out when he’s sane...”

“Yeah because he’s never exhibited _any_ sign in being interested in that sort of thing.” Meg said, waving a hand over her body and watching Dean’s reaction. She knew by bringing up that day in Crowley’s warehouse, it’d piss him off enough to act, one way or another.

“Well, you fuck him then.” He said, getting up and walking towards the door.

“I would, sweetness, willingly but it’s not me he wants.” She called as he slammed the door. 

She knew exactly where he was going and she phoned the reception so that he wouldn’t have any problem getting in without her.

  


“I’m Dean, I was here earlier...” He paused and to his surprise, the nurse just buzzed him through.

He walked around the corridors until he began to recognize them. Eventually he came to what he was sure was Cas’ room. He looked through the little window to make sure and walked in when he saw the outline of Castiel led on the bed, his ankles crossed and his hands behind his head, just staring up at the ceiling. He looked oddly human. Dean shook his head, knowing it was just Meg’s words getting to him.

“Hey?” Dean called out just in case he really was asleep.

“I felt you coming from the car park. You’re very tense.” Castiel said, not moving.

“Yeah. I had a fight with Meg...” Dean started.

“Are you and she engaging in a physical relationship?” Castiel asked, cutting him off.

It took Dean a second to realise what Cas was asking him; _were he and Meg fucking?_

“No! God, no.” Dean answered.

“You smell like her.” Cas noted,

“I’ve been sleeping at her apartment.”

“Oh.” He didn’t sound convinced.

“Seriously, Cas, I’m not sleeping with her. I can barely stand being in the same room as her.”

“Ok.” Castiel said, finally sitting up.

“Good. Glad we got that out of the way.” Dean paused, Meg’s words coming back to him again. “Cas, do you understand that kind of thing?”

Castiel moved to the foot of the bed and put a finger to his lips, beckoning Dean towards him with his other hand. Dean obliged, getting up and crouching at the foot of Cas’ bed.

“You may think I’m insane...” Castiel started before grabbing a handful off Dean’s t-shirt, pulling him that little bit closer and giving Dean half a second to be scared before kissing him, hard and fast. It was barely longer than a blink but it completely knocked Dean for six. “...But I’m not completely oblivious.” He finished, letting go of Dean’s shirt and sitting back on the bed, leaving Dean on the floor.

“Ok.” Dean said when he got a hold of himself. He got up and sat himself down in the chair, very aware of Cas’ eyes following him. “Is that what you want? For us to be like that?” He hated himself for even asking. What would he do if Cas said yes?

“Is it what you want?” Castiel asked him back.

“Damn it, Cas, I can’t decide that for you. I can’t...I barely know what I want.”

“What do you want?” He asked and Dean found himself feeling like the patient.

“I want you to be ok.” Dean admitted, getting up and putting his arms round Cas even though he hadn’t been asked to. Castiel hugged him back, seeming to understand that at that particular moment, Dean needed him.

  


When Meg got to work she didn’t know what to expect. She’d told the reception some lies about changes in medication and how Castiel was not to be disturbed but other than that, she didn’t know what had happened. She almost wanted to lock them both in the padded room and let them go at it until at least one of them started behaving like a sane human being.

When she walked into Castiel room, she found them both lying on his bed and much to her surprise, this time it was Castiel holding Dean. 

Dean was asleep and Castiel gave her a look so strong, it almost burned right through her so she closed the door again and left them to it.

  


When Dean woke up, he was filled instantly with guilt. He’d opened a door he shouldn’t have opened. He’d given in when he shouldn’t have and like Meg apparently would have said, he’d laid himself open like a virgin on prom night.

“I’ve got to go.” He said, getting up quickly and grabbing his jacket.

“Ok.”Castiel nodded, used to Dean’s abrupt exits. “Will you be back?”

“Of course.” Dean says, lingering the door, hoping that he could sort himself out by then.

When he got out of the hospital, he checked his phone. He had a dozen missed calls from Sam.

“Shit.” He said to himself, hitting the button to call Sam back.

“Dean, what’s going on? I’ve been calling for hours.” Sam’s voice greeted him.

“Nothing. I was...asleep.”

“It’s four in the afternoon?”

Dean checked his watch and pulled a face, Sam was right. Time seemed to have gone wonky lately, he blamed Meg’s nightshifts.

“Anyway...” Dean prompted.

“Yeah. Something big has come up. Like, take down Dick big.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, listening patiently as Sam filled him in, something about humans being farmed and an intercepted crate.

“So, we could do with having you here.”Sam finished.

“Sam, I don’t know if I can.” Dean glanced up to the general area of Castiel’s ward, maybe hoping to see him at a window before he remembered Cas wasn’t allowed windows anymore. “I’ve already left him once and that didn’t exactly go down well.”

“Dean, if we kill Dick and all the Leviathans go down too, you can spend as long as you like with him. If we don’t...” Sam trailed off, making his point.

“Fine. But give me a day or so, I’ve got to figure out what to tell him.” Dean hung up before Sam could say anything else.

  


Dean sat for few hours at Meg’s table, the book and several scrunched up pieces of paper in front of him. He didn’t plan on being so much of a coward that he was going to do this in a letter, but he figured he’d do himself a favour and try and organize his thoughts before he tried to actually say them.

In the book whenever he left it was because Cas was feeling guilty and didn’t think he deserved him, so he made a mental note to avoid that whole area. He focused on stating how much he didn’t want to leave and how he’d try to be back soon. Each time, he screwed it up and swore to himself.

“Damn it, Cas.” He said for about the thousandth time.

  


“I can pull the fire alarm, just in case. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I already told the fire department there’s going to be a drill...I just won’t tell anyone else.” Meg said, swiping him through the doors. “I should be able to buy you an hour.” She shrugged.

“I doubt that will be necessary.” Dean muttered, hoping he was right.

“Hey, he’s thrown me through so many walls; I’m surprised this place is still structurally sound.”

“Maybe you should work on your bedside manner.” He said sarcastically.

“Maybe you should work on yours.”

“What?”

“Like I said, you’ll have about an hour.”

“I’m not...That’s not going to happen.”

“Yeah, if you insist.” She swung open Castiel’s door. “Angel, you got a visitor.” 

“Dean?” He heard Castiel ask.

“I just can’t keep him away.” Meg said, ushering Dean in and giving him a ‘good luck’ pat on the back.

“Only pull it if things don’t go well.”

“Or if they do, right?” Meg winked and closed the door. Dean couldn’t help but feel nervous when he heard the lock click.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel said, crawling to sit on the end of his bed.

“Hey.” Dean said, dragging the chair so that he could sit across from him. “How are you doing today?” 

“I’m fine.”

“Is that a pretending to be fine ‘fine’ or an actually fine ‘fine’?”

“There were too many fines in that sentence.”

“Are you really fine?”

“Yes. It was an actually fine fine...fine?”

“Too many fines.” Dean said, more confused than Castiel looked.

“I’m fine.”

“Ok. Good.”

“And how are you, Dean?” Castiel said, with the barest tilt of his head and some semblance of his former self. It still made Dean uncomfortable how at times Castiel’s eyes seemed to stare straight through him, right into his core.

“I’m ok.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Ok, I’m not.” Dean sighed and longed to not have to say this. “I’m going to have to leave for a few days, maybe a week or two, I don’t know, it depends how it goes.”

He studied Castiel, waiting for a reaction, somewhat unnerved by his calmness.

“Is the world ending? It doesn’t feel like it’s ending. But it doesn’t feel the same either.”

“Sort of. It’s pretty much up there with the world ending.”

“What is it?”

“It’s fine, me and Sam’ll sort it and I’ll be back before you even miss me.” Dean said, dodging the question.

“What is it?” Castiel said again, more firmly.

“It’s Dick Roman.” Dean said, again sidestepping the real question.

“What’s a Dick Roman?” Castiel asked, not fooled.

“It’s...”Dean took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst. “The Leviathan.”

Castiel didn’t move but his face darkened. “So it’s my fault.”

“No.” Dean said but apparently not quickly enough because every bulb in the room smashed.

“It _is_ my fault.” Castiel got up and started pacing round the room, not even noticing the glass that crunched beneath his feet.

“No! You....”

“Don’t say I didn’t know.”

“Well, you didn’t _mean_ for them to escape.”

“I knew the risk.”

“You weren’t yourself.

“Don’t defend me!” Cas said, his eyes glaring with anger and Dean didn’t know who it was directed at. He remembered the last time Cas had said those words and looked at him like that, it had been a month ago, in the parking lot a couple of dozen feet below them. He’d managed to talk him round then but then Cas had been playing with a full deck of cards back then.

“Look, Cas, calm down.” Dean attempted to block his path, not entirely sure he wasn’t putting himself in the firing line.

“Everything is my fault! Balthazar, Rachel, Gabriel, Anna...they all died because of me. Because I rebelled and then I had to fix that mess and now I’ve created another one.”

Dean was vaguely aware of the distant sound of more glass smashing.

“You rebelled for me remember! You did it all for me.” He steered Castiel over to one of the paper thin walls. “Remember this? You pushed me up against a wall in an alley and beat the shit out of me because I was being a self-pitying idiot. And you told me you did it all for me. So if it’s your fault, it must be mine too. I admit, you went off the reservation for a while...In fact, you’re not fully back on the reservation yet, but somewhere in there is the repressed, humourless, junkless, son of a bitch Cas that I love and who I forgive, so if you could tell him that and stop taking all this out on the electrical appliances, we can sit down and talk about...all the shit I just said.”

Castiel took a deep breath and a fistful of Dean’s top, pulling him in for a second, just long enough kiss him before letting him go. After that he seemed to calm down. “Ok.”

“Ok.” Dean said, laughing because he didn’t know what else to do and was probably still slightly hysterical.

He was about to take Cas’ hand and lead him back over to the bed but his train of thought was derailed by sirens.

“What’s that?” Castiel said, his eyes wide as a child’s.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dean swore, going over to the door and hammering on it. “Don’t worry, it’s just the fire alarm, Meg set it off in case you didn’t take this well.” Dean turned just in time to see Castiel burst into tears.

“Fuck.” Dean’s own eyes were wide now, mostly with an air of _what did I do?_. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“You don’t trust me.” He muttered with a sort of dull acceptance.

“I was against the idea. It was all her.” Dean said, cursing Meg for what felt like the millionth time.

“It’s because of me though?”

Dean sighed, opening his arms so that Cas could bury his head in his chest. “Sort of. You’re still one of the most powerful things in the world and uh...you’re not exactly predictable.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok.” Dean said, tapping him on the head to get him to loosen his grip. He took him over to the bed, laying down on it and letting Cas curl into his side, just like he had the first night. “Do you want to talk about what I said?” Dean asked, knowing that usually once a certain word had been uttered, it had to be talked about.

“Which bit?” Castiel asked and Dean narrowed his eyes, almost sure he was playing dumb so that he would have to say it again.

“The bit where I said...” Dean bit the inside of his cheek and Castiel looked up at him, his eyes suddenly bigger and bluer than he had thought possible, or maybe that was just because of the chick flick moment Cas seemed determined that they were going to have. “...I love you.”

“I don’t need to talk about it.” Castiel settled back into Dean’s chest, looking almost uncharacteristically happy. “I know.”

Dean paused, completely at a loss for what to do now. Then a thought crept into his head and settled there, refusing to leave. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You do love me, right?”

Castiel reached up and placed his hand over Dean’s shoulder. “In Heaven, we call it a _profound bond_ but if it puts your mind at ease, yes Dean, I love you.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

He knew sooner or later he’d have to leave but for the moment, even with the fire alarm still blaring Dean felt truly peaceful, truly happy for the first time in a long time. He could have pretended Castiel’s powers were influencing him somehow but he was too tired to pretend anything anymore. 

He knew what it was.

It was forgiveness.

It was something he’d been longing to feel since Castiel’s eyes couldn’t meet his in that ring of fire. 

“Ok.” Dean said again.

  


-x-FIN-x-


End file.
